In Which Vivian Searches For Her True Love's Kiss
by Gen-in-the-Eve
Summary: Camelot rejoices after 'Sweet Dreams' end and the status quo has resumed its happy place. But for Lady Vivian, permanently besotted with Arthur, the nightmare is far from over. Olaf sets out to find the same magical kissing that restored Arthur to his senses in a series of attempts more absurd than any quest.


Disclaimer: I don't own the show 'Merlin'. This story occurs after S02.E10 "Sweet Dreams". I also don't own any of the numerous works I allude to in a usually somewhat parodied way (the exact details of what is being referenced where can be obtained via inquiry through a review or a PM should the source not seem obvious to you).

_In Which I Preface: Although I wrote this one-shot while writing my story "In Which Merlin is Rewritten As a Female Character", it didn't really fit in with the overall arc of chapter 19, where Trickler sets his love spells. Fortunately, since this is focused on Lady Vivian, very little of the action takes place in Camelot, and so the story is nebulously canon compliant, while also fitting into the general plot of my other story. I am further indebted as inspiration to A Treasury of the World's Greatest Fairy Tales, a tome my father read to me when I was a child and which contains a truly hilarious version of "The Frog Prince". The princess in that tale reminded me so much of Vivian, and the attendant love story struck me as so ludicrous that I was forced to ponder the pressing question: How do really awful, selfish, and enchanted people possibly fall into "true love"? And, after further consideration of fairy tales and medieval legends of chivalry and knights-errant, this was the result._

* * *

**In Which Vivian Searches for Her True Love's Kiss**

* * *

King Olaf was in a bit of a pickle. When Prince Arthur had privately—and tactfully—explained that his precious daughter, the Lady Vivian, had been placed under a love enchantment so as to be completely infatuated with the prince himself, the king had not been pleased. Arthur further explained that while he too had been placed underneath the same enchantment, the spell had been broken by his true love kissing him.

Easy enough solution, the prince said, if, of course, the identity of one's true love was known.

King Olaf had been absolutely furious with the sorcery, and had wanted to declare war on the spot. But Arthur had pointed out that warmongering was the reason that this whole situation had even arisen, and playing into Alined's hands would not make the enchantment go away.

So with a judicious amount of underhanded blackmail, Alined had, on pain of death, relinquished the fool Trickler, the man apparently behind the enchantment, to Olaf. And Olaf and his daughter had gone home.

Under moderate duress, Trickler had confessed that there was only one way to end the enchantment, namely, have Vivian's true love kiss her. Tickler had been consigned to a life of virtual slavery as an indentured servant, but Olaf had had to admit that other than the free labor, the man was no further help.

Olaf had always staunchly discouraged suitors, was in fact well known for his protectiveness towards his one daughter. But Vivian could not be allowed to remain in this dangerously befuddled state. And he had always intended for Vivian to marry one day. Far in the future, of course, when he was absolutely certain that the young man was worthy of his precious baby girl, but he'd intended it nonetheless. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

And so King Olaf prepared himself to find his prospective son-in-law.

This was a task much easier said than done. He had first gone to his daughter and asked her if she had a one true love.

Vivian answered she did, and had been quite effusive about his qualities. Olaf cheered up at the description; this man sounded like a paragon of virtue, a bastion of courage, a standard of chivalry.

And his name was apparently Arthur.

With those words Olaf was faced with the discouraging fact that as long as Vivian was enchanted, she would only ever identify her true love as Arthur. Considering that Arthur already had a one true love, the king did not find this at all comforting. Something new must be thought up.

The anxious father stewed over the issue for days. He had kept all men away from Vivian so as to discourage anyone hurting his precious child. Furthermore, he had no idea what manner of man Vivian might even have found attractive. Drawing nearer and nearer to desperation, Olaf had to commit himself to a truly despicable act; he stole the princess' diary, hoping that his daughter might have recorded a secret infatuation, or even at least a general type of man she was interested in. There was no such luck. The only person Vivian even sounded remotely close to liking, let alone loving, was named Vivian.

In a panic, Olaf turned to the words of more enlightened men. Love was a very mysterious force, something inexplicable and profound. How was he, one man far too busy trying to run a kingdom, supposed to have found the answer to true love? Clearly he wasn't. He employed other men to do such intellectual research. Olaf returned to his throne room, sat himself upon his gilded throne, and demanded his court philosopher be sent for. Surely now was the time for the wise man he employed to show his worth.

* * *

The court room was stuffy and the endless droning of the resident logician was putting Olaf into a stupor.

"…As the hitherto aforementioned paradigms of cerebral and metaphysical manifestations of natural affection originating from a wellspring of equanimity and goodwill towards specific sapient mortals have demonstrated with relative pontifications concerning emotional largesse, the unequivocal conclusion must be that in the philosophical determination of the bounds of prescribed and proper fondness towards disparate personages any one being may demonstrate during their corporeal lifespan, a sentiment bestowed by numinous means is the most likely explanation of adulation's origination."

As the man paused to draw breath, Olaf shook his head, desperate to make sense of the slew of verbiage he'd just heard.

"Ergo in locating and establishing an overtly emotional connection of this magnitude of feeling, the machinations of officious external forces have been proven to be ineffectual as a prime catalyst. The path to enlightenment remains a fundamentally internal process which precludes a solution of providing the elucidation of the correct extrapolation of various data based upon the emotional encounters of any singular soul when lacking the willing participation of the inner spirit's cooperation."

Olaf found himself in an unenviable situation. To ask the man to clarify would be to admit he hadn't understood what he'd said. He was the king; he couldn't be seen to be unintelligent.

"Thank you for that wise counsel," Olaf said at last. "I think that we might first follow a more cost efficient plan first." If his (currently nonexistent) back-up plan didn't work, he'd ask for clarification on what in the world the man had proposed he do with Vivian.

* * *

The small principality Olaf reigned over was set to gossiping when a decree was issued that there would be a great carnival and fair hosted in the castle courtyard. Troubadours and minstrels were employed to wander the market filled with goods of every variety. Such promise of commerce and fun was sure to attract all manner of men to the prime citadel of the kingdom.

The biggest attraction of all was Olaf's declaration that any eligible bachelor, for a nominal fee, would have the chance to become Olaf's successor, by proving himself to be the One True Love of Lady Vivian.

This sufficiently vague announcement excited the gossip even further. Lady Vivian's suitors had long been popular stories, seeing how Olaf had been rumored to have boiled various men in vats of oil, reported as having imprisoned lovesick swains in his darkest dungeons, and was on the more than one occasion 'known' to have chased those serenading the princess' window with long, blood-stained knives. The unexpected announcement of the lady at last being allowed to marry was enough to ensure a large showing to the fair. But a competition? The fair became irresistible. Bets were taken over what kind of tourney the daring knight had to face. Some suggested it would be a traditional joust or sword fight. Others suggested an archery competition, or a horse race.

Even more others insisted that these tests were far too mundane. It must be something exceptionally cunning to pass, a battle of wits. The bards of the kingdom enjoyed telling stories of that ancient monster, the Sphinx, who required all men to either answer her riddle or face her claws.

Still others insisted that to win the heart of the fair lady, a supplicant must prove to be the most worthy specimen of a man. Therefore what Olaf was hosting was a male beauty pageant, where the most attractive man in the realm would be the one to win the crown.

Gossip was wrong, as usual. Though Olaf was convinced that the one true love of his daughter could only be the most skilled of warriors, the most cunning of statesmen and the most handsome of mortals, testing those things would require a great deal of time. No, Olaf had decided on a far simpler method for determining the truth, loath as he was to do this. The tax he levied on all participants did, however, sufficiently sweeten the prospect in his mind, seeing as it would help replenish the castle coffers. And it was the simplest of all possible tests.

Excitement was high as the day of the much discussed fair finally arrived. Subjects of every class crowded to the square. The marketplace was a hive of busy enthusiasm and anticipation.

Villagers and gentry, lords and ladies, people of no note and people in finest silk gathered for the Royal Fair. The crowd was restless as they waited to witness the much advertised competition.

At last they saw the arena, proudly bedecked in banners plumed with plumes. Even those who didn't see the signs themselves were informed by the whispering which soon spread rapidly through the kingdom: On the day of the fair, Lady Vivian, in all her blonde, brocaded glory was sitting, waiting on a throne, beneath blazoned words reading, "_The Royal Kissing Booth_."

* * *

It had taken the soothing flattery of eight ladies in waiting for Lady Vivian to finally consent to kiss all of these men. She had eyes only for Arthur, and couldn't understand why he was staying away from her. But at last she had been convinced that this was the only way to prove her devotion to the prince.

None of the ladies quite understood how this made sense in the lady's mind, but wisely kept their silence.

The king, his highest advisers, and the aforementioned ladies, watched anxiously from the dais behind Vivian. The royal treasurer was happily taking the taxes paid for the privilege, and the line formed was already quite long.

A knight was the first man to face the test. Everyone waited on bated breath.

"Is Arthur watching me?" was Vivian's first sentence after the kiss. A disappointed sigh rippled through the court.

Knight number two was also unsuccessful. And so was his squire.

Knight after knight, lord after lord. By the fiftieth kiss, the King was accepting any single man who was willing to pay the tax who was over the age of sixteen.

Three days the competition ran. Vivian bestowed so many kisses that the royal physician had to create a kind of balm to soothe her chapped lips. King Olaf was getting anxious.

All the bards present busily began composing odes, dedicated to the poor enchanted lady, sitting high on her tall, tall throne, waiting for the kiss of true love to restore her to her previous state. Some of these ballads were less flattering than others. But they were quickly crowd favorites, even the one that made the enchanted princess a frog.

The masculine half of the kingdom's lips had not been effective in ending this spell, and when no more willing son-in-laws stepped forward, Olaf had reluctantly terminated the competition for the year. If he had not found Vivian's mate by this time next year, he would hold this tournament again.

* * *

And so it continued; one year, two years, three years. Impossible things seemed to happen in all the kingdoms around Olaf. Camelot crowned Arthur king and he installed a round table. The Fisher Land's perilous realms were somehow healed, filling with new life and verdant fields. Cenred obtained the Cup of Life, yet his entire immortal army was slain by a band of less than ten. All highly improbably tasks, yet Vivian's true love remained undiscovered; this one, paltry enchantment by some hedge wizard hadn't been undone.

The lady herself was disgruntled at the lack of a loving Arthur to come rescue her. She spent days arranging the most beautiful of wardrobes, gazing at herself in the looking glass, ordering her maids to continuously bring her the finest of everything. And her journal, half full of effusive praise of herself, was a further quarter filled with quite generous praise of _Arthur_.

Olaf began to despair of ever having grandchildren. Vivian was supremely uninterested in the day to day logistics of the kingdom, and Olaf wondered if perhaps a simpler way to find his successor would be to hold a regular sort of tournament for the most worthy of knights. He could make it a condition of becoming crown prince that the man must provide for all of Vivian's needs. Surely this was easier than finding the one man worthy of his daughter's love? But still, Olaf hesitated, not willing to give up hope of natural successors quite yet.

* * *

Many leagues away, a young knight was kneeling on the cold, stone floor. It was the night of the knight's vision quest, where it would be revealed what he was to do to prove himself worthy. Hopefully, by succeeding on this quest, he would be able to go to Camelot, where he could show King Arthur that he was worthy to sit at the great Round Table.

It was many hours before Cai received his vision. It was unlike anything else he had experienced. A swirling mass of light appeared before him, and then out of the confusion of colors appeared a lovely image. A beautiful maiden, lying asleep. Her hair shone so bright that it rivaled sunlight. Her eyes were obviously closed, but he was sure that they would be the loveliest eyes. The overall effect was so wondrous, that Cai almost thought he heard music playing. He realized that this vision of incomparable loveliness must be somehow enchanted, in need of rescue with his sword and strength.

Cai had never been an overly proud man, but he could not help feeling truly blessed that he was to save this damsel. He had heard of other knights going on quests for missing tridents, or glorified goblets. But he was to save a woman. In terms of quests, he figured this counted as incomparable.

* * *

It would have been a bit too much like cheating had Cai found within his own castle directions to this sleeping beauty he must rescue. But three nights journey away from his home, he figured anyone he came across was fair to ask as a guide. Figuring that minstrels always knew the latest in distressed damsels, Cai soon located one. Fully intending to give the man a gold coin should the man prove informed, Cai approached.

"I, good sir, am on a quest to rescue the enchanted princess. Do you happen to know in which kingdom she resides?"

The bard gave an appraising look at the knight. "What sort of enchanted princess?"

"A sleeping one," Cai answered. "A sleeping beauty, with lovely golden, curling hair as bright as sunshine, and lips as red as red, red-" he was cut off by the man.

"Why must she be sleeping?" the man asked suspiciously.

Cai was confounded. "I assumed that was her curse. Have you heard of her?"

"The only enchanted lady I know does fit the blonde curly hair bit, but she's not enchanted to be sleeping. Are you sure the sleeping part is a requirement?"

"She was sleeping in my vision," Cai began.

The old man got a shrewd look on his face. "What time did you have this vision?"

"Four nights ago, at midnight, I was kneeling on the floor, waiting to receive the glorious vision of what I must do on my great quest—."

"There you have it," the old bard said. "Any princess, enchanted or not, would be asleep at such an hour. The golden haired princess you seek is Lady Vivian, only child of King Olaf. He's been hosting a competition for years to try to disenchant his daughter of her overly romantic notions. I reckon he'll be quite grateful to you if you can end this lovesickness." Cai appreciated this information, and after getting precise directions to Olaf's kingdom, which was, quite conveniently, neighboring his own small castle, Cai gave the old bard a gold coin. He, Sir Cai, the brave and true, would rescue this fair maiden. He'd at first been disappointed to learn there was nothing mysterious about her slumber, but consoled himself by thinking it was infinitely more efficient as a quest if the damsel was fully awake and capable of communicating.

* * *

A day after Cai had attained the bard's directions to the fortress where Lady Vivian resided, likely constantly ensconced in a bevy of flowers, Cai came upon his first test for courage and strength. He'd camped in a swampy area the night before and he woke up to find his camp had overnight been infiltrated by beasts. _Hundreds_ of black-legged demons. The large creatures covered almost every available surface. His saddlebags filled with food were the most heavily besieged, as the enemy creatures settled on feasting on his loaf of week old bread.

With a roar Cai leapt from his bedroll, grabbing the spare handkerchief he'd been tying around his neck to keep out dust as he traveled. The snowy white cloth flew to left and right as Cai flipped it around in great fury. Barely stopping to catch his breath, Cai rushed at his horse, hitting the saddlebags soundly until he'd slain all the creatures that had not cowardly flown away at his stalwart charge. Knowing that they'd be back for reinforcements, Cai quickly rolled up his blankets and pulled on his armor—to think he'd fought this entire battle without being protected by shield or helmet, not even grasping his trusty sword! Once the necessary tasks had been completed, Cai went to mount his horse. Looking at the saddlebags, Cai gasped. The bodies of his defeated foe still rested, slumped over his food. Before he brushed the bodies aside with as much concern for the slain as if they were the _flies_ they were, Cai quickly counted how many he'd slaughtered with only one blow of his handkerchief. One, three, seven! Armed with the confidence due the massacre of his enemies, Cai continued on.

It took Cai a week to reach King Olaf's castle. It would have taken less time if he had not been waylaid at every turn by the poor unfortunate souls in his way who he had, as befitted his knightly carriage and sense of duty, been bound to help. The first day he had helped right a produce cart that had been knocked over by some vicious beast. Hearing this tale, Cai had known immediately that the creature was seeking him. It was a beast put into his path to try to keep him from rescuing Vivian. In that light it was entirely his fault that the old man had been inconvenienced, and he had determined to help the man sell his vegetables in repayment for the disaster. And the next day he had been waylaid by a band of orphan children who had begged him to play with them. Knowing that on this quest Cai was to prove himself chivalrous and worthy, the knight had been unable to deny their pleas for his company.

But it wasn't until the third day that Cai knew that he was nearing the height of his quest. A furious rainstorm had set upon him. Even nature was conspiring to keep this princess unaided! As Cai spent three days in the mud, he knew that his enduring the elements would be proof that he was noble enough for his lady love.

When the rain at last abated and Cai had scraped enough mud off his armor that his walking was not as encumbered, Cai had realized, to his great delight, that he was only half a day's journey from Olaf's castle.

All the townspeople stared as he entered, and not being able to see that he resembled a bizarre type of mud man, Cai assumed he was being greeted with the revered silence of adulation. Taking stock of the peasants before him Cai said in a strong commanding tone (which was only slightly hoarse from the days he had spent out in the elements), "I am Sir Cai, worthy knight on a quest to free your lady from the terrible curse which incapacitates her."

If Cai had come to the land six months previously, he would not have garnered much interest. Six months ago had been the third annual royal kissing booth, and the gathering was immensely popular. But the next festival with its subsequent amusements was still six months away and the people were eager to be entertained by this strange knight as he futilely tried to gain Vivian's persnickety affections. Nobody expected him to succeed of course, but then again nobody expected anyone to succeed anymore. But the spectacle was worth seeing and there was a certain pride in boasting that the were the home of the beautiful but ultimately unconquerable Vivian.

With this mindset running rampant through the town, Cai found his path to the palace paved with cheering villagers, all of whom considered themselves to be experts on Vivian and who helpfully shouted pieces of advice. Cai didn't hear much of the later, as his mudcaked hair was plastered over his ears, but in the end, that was probably just as well, considering how unreliable gossip can be.

* * *

Though Olaf's subjects might have decreed amongst themselves that there was no hope for Vivian's true love's kiss, the king sitting along in his castle was not of the same mindframe. Necessity had driven off his dreams of the best and most lauded knight as his only prospective son-in-law, and instead he was now willing to concede the throne to anyone who could return Vivian to her previous amiable state.

Thus the ever hopeful father reacted rather differently to the news that someone new, someone who had not yet kissed Vivian, was come to the kingdom. He was prepared to extend every courtesy to the man in the hopes that he was the one, and he ordered the visitor to be shown to the finest rooms in the palace and granted every hospitality.

Having extended such courtesy, Olaf was utterly unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

The man was filthy. Utterly filthy. While the presence of armor (however buried it was under layers of dirt) indicated a man of at least some means, Olaf could literally tell nothing else about him. He didn't even know what color the man's hair was.

"I have come, O King," the man declared in a voice a smidgeon too loud, "to beg an audience with your daughter to see if I might be the one to free her from her spell. I have braved many dangers on my journey to your kingdom. I have withstood the attacks of wild animals and fearsome storms that raged around me as I pressed onwards. I have aided those endangered by the self-same beasts that would have beset upon me. I hope that in these endeavors I have shown myself to be a true knight."

Olaf was indeed impressed at this man who clearly understand the call of duty and had risen for the challenge. But the way that Cai's speech continued was something the king was utterly unprepared for.

"I am willing to work at whatever job you ask of me, no matter how menial, in the hopes that I can prove myself a worthy suitor of so good a lady. I will sleep in your dungeons, and work in your kitchens, deny myself all but the driest morsel of bread and a goblet of water, in my efforts to prove myself to you, and to show that I, Sir Cai, will rescue your daughter."

Olaf exchanged a look with his counselor, unsure of whether this expression of devotion was the token of a man humble enough to dedicate himself to his daughter or whether the man was merely mad.

"That is very fine of you to say, Sir, um, Cai," Olaf started, but he was interrupted by another deep bow.

"Sire, I am humbled that my paltry offers have met with your approval. I will hie myself to the stables immediately, that I might muck them out as sign of my devotion," Sir Cai said in what he clearly mistook as a humble tone, but which many others would declare merely unctuous. He bowed again and was turning to leave. It was only the thought of how much worse this man would smell after mucking after horses that helped Olaf decide how to deal with this knight.

"That won't be necessary," Olaf hastened to assure him. The knight turned around, eying the king in confusion. "Your willingness is enough of a guarantee that you are indeed a fine and upstanding lad. If you would wish to show Vivian all your fine assets, I beg that you do something else before you do anything else. If you will do this one thing, I will happy to invite you to dine with me, and of course with my daughter, Lady Vivian. Will you do it?"

The knight fell to one knee, crossing his hand over his heart. "I will do anything you command me, Sire."

Olaf nodded in satisfaction. "Then, please, take a bath."

* * *

And that was how Sir Cai came to be established in Olaf's mighty castle. After a long and thorough bath (which required three changes of the water, so as to get rid of all of the mud), the knight proved to be a moderately pleasing looking man, with mud colored hair and eager brown eyes. Olaf declared himself satisfied.

Vivian was not. "You can't even begin to compare to my Arthur," she assured the knight after he had bowed deeply over her hand and presented himself as unworthy to even kiss her fingers.

Cai was quick to agree with her. "I do not know that I could ever measure up to any man who shared a name with the great king of Camelot," Cai said. He was unaware of the exact details of Vivian's enchantment, thinking it to be merely a case of a magically perpetuated crush. Olaf had thought about enlightening him, and indeed had started to, declaring that he must kiss Vivian to see if he was the one demanded by the spell, but Cai had been so overcome with indignation that any one treat Vivian with such discourtesy before knowing her better, that Olaf had stopped. Perhaps he had been wrong to simply throw every young man at her head. The annual kissing tournament was yielded too much revenue to be disbanded without due cause, but seeing as it was six months away, Olaf decided to entertain a different approach in the meantime. And so Olaf had not enlightened Cai as to the exact details of the curse, only saying that Vivian was fixated on some Arthur and that none had been able to cure her yet.

Cai was continuing to list out the reasons why he did not wish to compete with such a man named Arthur. And then he said, "But I only know this, my sweetest lady. A man would have to be a fool to stay away from one as devoted as you. And you deserve far more than a fool. And worse, with this whole kingdom filled with men eager to rush to your aid for the last three years, that this Arthur is not among them does not speak well to his character."

This comment froze the room, as all were stunned at the reasonable reasoning of the knight many had already labeled as eccentric. Furthermore there was curiosity as to how Vivian would handle this slight against her supposed love. But instead of any shrill complaint, the lady regarded the knight thoughtfully. It seemed that even Vivian was no immune to the novelty of an unexpected and previously unexpressed bit of logic. Furthermore, it seemed such determination to label Vivian as the more worthy of the pair shocked a bit of reciprocal logic from the princess. With a surprisingly cunning look she said,

"And how would you know that I am worthy, Sir Cai? You've only known me five minutes."

"That is true," Sir Cai agreed genially. "Therefore I must make it my personal mission to prove that you are as worthy as I believe. I shall simply have to stay in this castle until I know you better."

* * *

And thus the unconventional wooing of Lady Vivian began. Some cynical people, aware of the exact nature of the enchantment, had determined that there was no cure for the lady. Arthur himself had only been healed by a magical kiss because of a pre-existing condition. With no true love hiding in the heart when the spell was cast, cynics said that the enchantment had taken complete root and could not be excised.

Fortunately Sir Cai was not such a pessimist, and due to his vision, he saw his quest as something he was destined to achieve. Ergo, the unbewitching of Vivian was achievable.

On the third day of what would retroactively be considered their courtship, Cai and Vivian had a fearsome argument. Vivian was going on and on about Arthur and how they were destined to be together. And she had been going on and on about this for the duration of Cai's stay, as well as incessantly for the entirety of their horse ride through the country. As the repetitious and unalleviated droning reached its hour mark even the patience of Sir Cai snapped.

"I don't want to hear another word of it, Vivian!"

She turned to him, highly affronted. "How dare you speak to me so! Arth-,"

"I don't want to hear the name Arthur ever again," Cai said in frustration. Given his devotion to the King of Camelot and how he had embarked on this quest in the first place in an effort to prove to Arthur that he was a perfect candidate for the Round Table, this showed how very provoked the knight was.

"There is more to you than this obsession. I want to hear what you, _Vivian_, think. I want to hear about what you love to do and about the things you irrationally dislike. And I don't want to hear the word Arthur again for the rest of the day! If you can't say something nice about yourself then you shouldn't say anything at all."

Cai urged his horse forward, and Vivian did not immediately follow. She was the princess! It was everybody else's duty to listen to whatever she decided to say. Everyone in her father's kingdom understood this. Many a lady in waiting had been fired for not understanding this. How dare Sir Cai think that he could dictate how she speak!

But at the same time Vivian was aware of a new sensation. 'There is more to you than this,' Cai had said. Due to the enchantment Vivian couldn't accurately remember how she'd viewed the world before Arthur became such a fixation in her thoughts. Those days were fuzzy in her memory. But for the first time, Vivian had a sudden determination to recall them more clearly.

* * *

The fourth day of the so called courtship began a little differently. It all started, as many days do, with breakfast. Cai, Olaf, and Vivian were all dining together. Conversationally Cai asked about Vivian's favorite foods.

"Arthur once brought me a plate of chicken," Vivian began to reminisce. There was a fierce glare from Cai and Vivian recalled her newly discovered determination to break the habit of three years and not speak of the man. So she thought about what she had remembered liking all those years ago. In the three years since Arthur's surprise delivery to her door, Vivian had eaten a lot of chickens in the desire to recapture the magic of the dinner Arthur had delivered. Now that Vivian thought about it, she was a little sick of chicken. Had she ever preferred something different?

Speaking a bit hesitantly, a rarity for the much self-assured woman, Vivian said, "I don't remember what I liked most before three years ago." Her father and the knight exchanged somewhat worried glances at this show of just how very far this sorcery had gone, but Cai said cheerfully,

"We shall simply have to hold a taste-testing until you rediscover it." Vivian beamed at the suggestion and Olaf silently thanked his lucky stars that the repetitiveness of the chicken cuisine was at least temporarily at an end. In his feelings of failure at having not been able to cure Vivian of her infatuation, the king had indulged her in all of her requests. Finally they could have a different meal then roasted chicken for supper! They could have soup or beef or even only a meal of only vegetables. Olaf wasn't about to complain.

After a week filled with the cook providing all the dishes which had been most requested prior to the trip to Camelot, Vivian finally found her own personal favorite food. That night Vivian wrote in her diary the first entry in a very long while that hadn't mentioned Camelot. _'Dear diary,'_ it read. _'My favorite food is vegetable stew.'_ There were a few more musings on the reason that this dish surpassed all the other dishes, and at the very end of the entry it said,_ 'I wonder what Cai's favorite food is.'_ Looking down at what she had written Vivian decided that if Cai hadn't been served his favorite dish in the previous week, that they'd have to keep eating different recipes until he found his own. It was the least she could do after he helped her clear some of the haze from the recollections of her childhood.

* * *

After a week of Cai's residence in the palace, the one word everybody had for him was 'persistent'. Vivian agreed, though she couched it in less flattering descriptions.

But the thing was, he simply would not go away. Healing Vivian was a now a matter of honor for the knight, and nothing would induce him to give up his honor. Having accomplished the impossible in getting Vivian concede that there was more to her than her infatuation for Arthur, Cai refused to let her return to previous state wherein she name dropped Arthur's name almost every other word.

It was a furious battle between two stubborn people and Vivian wasn't above using such underhanded tactics, such as pointing out all of Cai's flaws for three days straight, in an effort to make the man flee the castle.

Unfortunately that ended up backfiring a little bit. Cai was so pleased that she not only hadn't mentioned Arthur at all in her diatribes against him, but she'd spent enough time paying attention to someone else that he had merely grinned cheerily at her, pointing out that she could insult him all day long if she left Arthur out of it. In the end, Vivian agreed to not mention Arthur more than nineteen times in one day. Cai was rather obnoxious about keeping a tally of this, going so far as to have a quill and parchment on his person at all times. Cai operated under the idea that a fitting punishment for the annoyance of hearing about Arthur deserved him doing something equally annoying. Thus, ever time Arthur was mentioned more than twenty times in one day, he started on the day's designated irritation. It drove Vivian crazy, but as the weeks went by, she found herself sometimes deliberately mentioning Arthur's name a twentieth time simply to see what punishment Cai had devised.

One day's twentieth 'Arthur' was followed by Cai speaking only in third person for the rest of the afternoon. Another day he made her walk backwards throughout the entire castle. Sometimes he persuaded the head cook to withhold dessert. His fallback option for any Arthurian counts that numbered in the thirties was for Cai himself to drone on incessantly about one topic for the rest of the day.

In this way Vivian learned about Cai's childhood, his least favorite Latin tutor, and the perilous journey he undertook to reach Olaf's castle. Amusing as Cai's other creative tortures were in hindsight, Vivian found herself actually looking forward to the soliloquy days. Though Cai could keep up a drone long enough for it to be officially a monologue, at the end of his pontification on whatever the subject of the hour was, invariably he would ask about her own opinion. And Vivian valued these conversations. In such a way, by the time Cai had been in the castle two months, Vivian and he had become good friends.

Inevitably, one day the topic turned to romance. Surprisingly, this was a fairly short conversation. Vivian could only contribute comments concerning Arthur, which was off limits. And Cai had little in the way of anecdotes seeing as he had, until this point in time always been so dedicated to training to become a knight, he had never expended the effort to woo a woman.

"I've yet to kiss a lady," Cai mournfully confessed.

"Really?" Vivian asked. "I've kissed hundreds of men."

"Hundreds?!" Cai said in surprise, turning to look at her.

"Indeed. It is part of our annual tax collection. I sit at the Royal Kissing Booth every summer."

Cai sighed. Here was just one more way that Vivian far surpassed him. Fortunately, Cai reflected, their friendship could exist on these uneven footings. "I don't even know how to go about it," Cai said, thinking about romance and the difficulties of wooing the woman of his dreams. Even with her near at hand, even if Cai managed to cure her Arthur obsession, Olaf had made it clear that there had been too much romance in the air.

Vivian however interpreted his comment differently. "Oh, kissing is easy," she assured him. "You simply do this."

And without preamble she kissed him. It was straightforward enough for the lady and exceedingly shocking for the man. Grasping her shoulders tightly, Cai enforced a foot of space between them.

"What was that all about?" he squeaked. He didn't want to merely be added to her impersonal tally of men. And what had she said about kisses being taxes?

Vivian's world had also turned on its head. "I'm in love!"

Cai groaned. Never had he less wanted to hear another man's name drop from her lips. "Please don't talk about Arthur right now," he begged.

"Arthur?" Vivian said with a startled laugh. "Who is he and why in the world would I want to talk about him when I'm in love with you?"

"You don't know who Arthur is?" Cai said in disbelief. This was very strange sorcery indeed. "Wait, did you just say you're in love with me?"

"Yes," she said. And taking advantage of his hands relaxing their grip in his love induced stupor, Vivian moved close enough to wrap her arms around Cai and kiss him again.

Inexperienced Cai might have been in the matters of kissing, but when a man finds the woman of his heart in his arms, kissing him, instinct is enough. And it was all sunshine and romance until the most terrible of recollections returned to him. Pulling away, Cai asked Vivian in horror,

"What will your father say?"

* * *

Olaf was sitting on his throne, listening to various supplicants who had been granted an audience when Sir Cai walked in. Immediately Olaf was concerned at the sober expression on Cai's face. He had been out with Vivian, and so Olaf could only conclude that something had happened to his daughter. He straightened up and bid Cai speak quickly.

Cai affected a deep bow and then said, "Your majesty, I am so sorry. I fear that the fault is all mine, but even then, I know I am not worthy of your forgiveness."

"Is this about my daughter?" the king inquired in a dangerous voice. Cai gulped but resolutely nodded and furious as Olaf was becoming, he had to admire that the man was here to confess his sins and take responsibility of his own volition, not waiting for his crimes to be discovered.

"I am not entirely sure how it happened, and it wasn't my intent at all. But your daughter has fallen in love with me."

It was like the everyone in the room uttered a gasp in unison, but Cai didn't seem to realize that it was shock that Cai claimed to have accomplished the highly improbable. In an even more remorseful tone, Cai continued, "While on the one hand I could go kneel before King Arthur and beg a spot on his table armed with the satisfaction that I have fulfilled my quest and freed Vivian for the long held infatuation she had for her Arthur, I know that you will wish to execute me for my impertinence and presumption. As much as I have come to esteem your daughter, and even love her—,"

Cai got no further. The king rose to his feet and approached the knight. Everyone in the room was anxiously looking between the two men. "What did you say?" the king asked rhetorically. Or at least everyone interpreted it as a rhetorical question for the man did not pause for an answer. "You love my daughter? And my daughter loves you?"

Cai affirmed this. "I only await your decree at what I must do to apologize for my bold action in kissing the princess."

The words "true love's kiss" were murmured around the court in awed voices, but Cai was so bent on his abject misery at having offended the man who had opened his home to him, and who was the father of the woman he had fallen in love with that he didn't notice or understand the significance.

"Send for my daughter!" the king decreed boldly. "If what Cai has said is true, then send for all the courtiers of note. Send for the chancellors and wise men. We're going to have a wedding!"

The crowd cheered and the poor, miserable knight standing there looked up at him in shock. "Marriage? To Vivian?"

Feeling in better humor than Olaf had felt in years, he clapped the man on his back. Taking pity on his confusion he explained. "Vivian was magically enchanted to love only Arthur until she was kissed by her true love. I have searched for the man who would be my successor for years, but nobody's kisses have undone this magic spell. Until you. You alone, Sir Cai, possessed the right magical kissing. You are the only true heir for this kingdom."

* * *

Of course, they didn't get married as directly as all that. True love or no, the Royal Kissing Booth and the attendant fair brought increased revenue and business into the kingdom. The tradition could not be curtailed without some money-making scheme substituted in its place.

And that was where Cai and the newly clear-headed Vivian (after the true account of the last three years had been explained fully to both) began to show their value to the kingdom when they worked as a team. Cai proposed that the unenchanting of Vivian merited just as much hullabaloo as the mere markers of failed attempts and that the scheduled fair should proceed as planned. Vivian, mind already set to being the most beautiful of brides, determined that the wedding could be planned in highest secrecy, with the veil of surprise only being lifted at the annual affair when Cai would prove before all the onlookers to be her true love. It was her idea to use all who had been in the throne room during Cai's spontaneous revelation as the official wedding planners after they were sworn to keep the now betrothed lady's relationship status as protected as a state secret.

So in four months time, under the most impressive banner yet, surrounded by more blossoms than any previous year, Vivian sat on the throne of the Royal Kissing Booth. Sir Cai joined the line of potential suitors. Vivian had fun with her kisses, making ridiculous commentaries on everybody's technique while interspersing the name Arthur as frequently as her ladies-in-waiting reported she'd done in the past.

That revelation had actually spawned a minor argument as Vivian didn't even chant Cai's name that repetitively and she couldn't imagine that she'd really been that fixated on _anybody_. But she had lost the argument and after telling Cai how utterly ridiculous it was, had agreed to play her part with exactness.

Now that the comments had acquired a genuine sense of proportion and the people close enough to hear her comment after every kiss were hard pressed to contain their laughter as she compared the men's kisses to her favorite foods, her least favorite animals, and even, on one notable occasion commenting that the man who had just kissed her had a chin like a thrush. As he left she greeted him again as 'Sir Thrushbeard'. In past kissing booths, Vivian had uttered even more ridiculous metaphors and similes, most in some way managing to wax poetic about Arthur. But that she now said these things meaning to be absurd made the process funny rather than painful to hear.

At last Cai had waited his turn and made it to the front of the line.

The observers not realizing this was a set-up saw a true love at first sight romance because Vivian, bored despite her best efforts, smiled more genuinely when she saw who was standing there. Her eyes lit up, her token comment of 'Arthur' was half-hearted at best and when Cai finally kissed her, it was noticeably more passionate from the get go than what any prior candidates. So the crowd was appeased that this truly was a kiss of a different league and cheered as Olaf excitedly leapt to his feet and declared he would be marrying them on the spot.

Vivian and Cai continued kissing until it was absolutely necessary for them to part and say their "I do"s. The onlookers rejoiced, the fair was declaratively transmuted into a commemorative anniversary tournament on the spot, and people did more shopping than ever to relieve the heightened emotions of excitement. Olaf took that as a sign that the gathering's future revenue was indeed secured.

The newlyweds were still standing at the base of the kissing booth, happy to at last be openly affectionate and each dreaming of what they hoped the rest of their lives would look like. Vivian imagined a future filled with love, laughter, and children. The most appealing aspect of the future she was embarking upon was headed under the resolution to never speak of Arthur or Camelot again. She rejoiced that she was free at last from that chapter of her life and could work on building a new life with Cai.

Cai pictured how he would continue to serve as an honorable knight, now that he had indeed saved the object of his vision quest. It was as he had always dreamed it. In fact, as he clasped his wife's hands, hardly paying attention to the rose petals being thrown around them like lots of really expensive confetti, Cai realized that he had accomplished something that would surely mark him worthy to be a member of the Round Table. He now could live the dream.

He beamed at the thought and smiling down at Vivian said, "What do you think of our taking a trip to Camelot to visit King Arthur?"

* * *

_The End  
_


End file.
